


Symphonic arousal

by Pouringmyarousalontoapage



Category: Classical Music RPF
Genre: Control, Dominance, F/F, Music, Safety, Sex, Submissive, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:20:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24893026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pouringmyarousalontoapage/pseuds/Pouringmyarousalontoapage
Summary: A cellist and violinist arouse each other through music into a night of passion.
Relationships: Sub/Domme
Kudos: 4





	1. Symphony

A dusting of fifteen hundred eyes were all gathered on Emily’s body. Some looking with adoration, other’s jealousy. Some with lust for her, some with calm. She couldn’t feel any of those gazes. She could feel each audience member laid out in a field of theater seats, they each had a string trailing from their foreheads into the air. Every single person, a thin wispy strand of thread, all collected into a bundle held by the violinist. She could feel all of them. She could feel certain ones become taught as people leaned back-she was losing them. Other strings loosened as people leaned in-she gathered more attention from them. One string bounced around as a man had a fit of laughter-maybe about the playing or maybe something else. The violin’s strings, the people’s heartstrings, those that ran between them. She was playing on her instrument to control the thoughts and feelings of those around her. 

They all came for the beautiful music she would create. They came to see the symphony she played with. They came to enjoy themselves. They came so they could be considered high society because they went to see an orchestra. They went there so they could feel someone else in control. They went to feel the musicians give them the opportunity of giving up their emotional control.

The musicians played for an hour. They brought down a storm of feelings upon the audience. From nearing tears to trembling on the brink of happiness the audience didn’t have to try and feel anything, they were brought through a story, an hour of another’s life through the music. 

Emily finished her long solo and most of those strings jerked and trembled as people wept. It was time for the cellist to join in and slowly bring up the tempo and joy of the room. Somber, slow, elongated strokes of their bows in unison rolled the audience and mulled them through there sadness. They were feeling emotions without story or reason. The strongest power of music, to make you feel something without a reason. Sadness without death, happiness without success. Emily gave a sudden thrust to her bow. 

The cellist twinged inside her chest. She brought her music along like a wave that surrounded Emily. It gave her chills. Sarah turned away from the audience in her mind and played a scale. Simple, improvised, without reason, simplistic, random notes fluttering off unexpectedly. They pulled at Emily. She shot a couple sharp notes back at her partner as the brass joined in at that moment. 

Unbeknownst to the audience Emily and Sarah were flirting, and they both knew it.

Sarah sending flat notes like heavy touches against Emily’s ears. Something so steady and controlled about the cellist, the bow just kept going, and going, with no end in sight. 

Sarah was fluttering inside hardly able to focus. Her wild girl, the violinist, so free and movement-based, not trapped down by the size of her instrument, spun and bent at her hip. So much excitement and freedom, such control over her audience, easing them in and out of their feelings, moving from one state to the next. She was intimidated by her. 

Emily scaled out two runs of sharp notes. The rest of the musicians were impressed with how easily the improvised music fit with the rest of it. She rolled her eyes shut and focused on the audience. It was about them, she wasn’t selfish enough to turn away from them to have her fun. They were here to be taken in and returned at the end of this story this experience of emotions and she understands this relationship deeply. They trusted her and they would be hurt if she didn’t take full care of them. 

Even as the cellist’s flat notes felt like long tender fingers stroking across her ears she focused on her audience and brought them to a conclusive end. They were left relaxed and feeling rested. Ready to walk out on their own two feet. She added a finale flourish of notes that could only be described as the sound of a symphonic twirl. She stepped to the front of the stage and bowed. Her black hair tumbling around hollow cheeks. She came up quickly flinging it to the back of her head and left the stage. She caressed her instrument with the adoration of a partner and lover. Once inside its velvet case, she kept it in her hand for the rest of the evening. 

“Hey, I loved your flourishes today. That’s the best thing about working with you, every show has a small amount of uniqueness in the music.”

“Thank you. I’m lucky to have you conducting me this year. The last one was less than okay with “mutinous musicians.” She rolled her eyes to the left casually.

“Haha, I try to just act as your metronome. Stay with me, but do your own thing.”

“I appreciate that.” She gave the conductor a side hug and walked past the rest of the orchestra backstage. The low roar of voices perking up outside and feet attacking the floor as they leave the theater. She smiled at many of her fellow performers. She ran her hand down the pianist’s upper arm and added a smile as she walked past. People were given back pats and “Good job tonight’s.” She gave them all a lot of aftercare when performances were over. Most of them came to crave her kindness in the moments following what felt like a cataclysmic event. All that adrenaline surging for an hour straight with so much focus needed, many using so much muscular control, and in many cases breath control, they were all drained. And she helped keep everyone together when it was over. 

The cellist stood in the corner, still wearing her long dark red dress. Emily’s brown eyes landed on Sarah’s head and slipped down her hair to the woman’s upper back. She turned to face Emily. Her eyes caught the woman’s freckled cheeks and slid down from her neck to lower ankles. The only part of skin she could see peeking out from under that encasing dress.

“You were very good tonight Emily. Nothing gives me that great feeling like Lin’s sharp notes.” A nickname she had given Emily’s instrument violin some time back.

“I thought you did superbly well this evening.”

“Thank you. Have you plans for tonight?”

“No immediate ones.” They both smiled, complimented, and touched the Saxophonist’s bare arms as she walked by. She smiled back saying, “Thanks, guys.” 

“She puts a lot of soul into her music.”

“She’s a ginger,” Emilly whispered and smiled.

“Well, she’s got, my soul.”

“You give your soul to every cute ginger girl you meet.”

“Don’t tease, that’s my job.” Sarah moved her green glassy eyes towards the group and followed them. Emily strode out of the theater. Unlike the rest of them, she liked to leave the same way the audience does. She walked down the steps to the stage, up the aisle, up more stairs, past the final row of seats, through the doorway, along the curving hall, and out the theater door. She walked past the small bar out front of the theater, waved to the man cleaning it, went down the long hall that leads to the other two theaters, and down the cascading steps. She kept turning and spinning on her toes for no reason at all. There was an energy inside her tonight, and she was gonna put it somewhere. Once at the bottom of the steps that just kept going like Sarah’s stamina on her cello she said “Goodnight” to a group of tech people and left through the double doors. 

The cold November air coated her skin in goosebumps. Her phone vibrated in her pocket as she hailed a cab. The dark streets and shops floated by. She checked her phone, the text was from Sarah.

"I'm gonna use my tongue to play connect the dots with your goosebumps."

She squeezed her violin case and felt herself moisten again.


	2. Cellists eroticism

Emily’s mind

I can feel my pulse throbbing in the back of my head. I knock on the hotel door twice and then curse myself for not doing it with more force or confidence. I’m so glad that Sarah’s room is on a different level from the rest of the orchestra. I wouldn’t want them realizing I’m here. When the door opens my breath stops and all I can do is devour her body with my eyes. From the long grainy looking brown hair to her thin cute feet and I can’t stop eyeing her. 

“Come.” She turns and walks inside. She sat on the bed. I follow her shutting the door and taking off my shoes. I sit next to her on the bed. Her cello is propped against the other bed in the room. 

She puts a hand on my back and using such light pressure. Her slight touch makes me  fold in half. I move towards her and down across her legs. As soon as her hand cups my bottom I clench all my muscles.

“You know I practice every night at the same time, but you always focus on your needs over my work.” Her hand hits my bottom. I moan. I don’t want to but I can’t help it. My body aches for her touch so badly I don’t care that it stings or that she’s technically punishing me. I want her so badly that her hard spankings are ecstasy in my mind. She strikes me twice more and I can smell my arousal in the air.

“Sit up.” I do as she’s instantly. “Kneel in front of my cello.” I stand on wobbly legs and walk over to her instrument. As I kneel in front of it I become envious of its position. She sits down behind it and makes a show of holding it between her thighs. She begins playing scales. Long drawn-out ones. I watch her hands and long fingers caressing the strings of her instrument and bow. She’s so steady and controlled. Her touch shows no sign of slowing, of stopping or feeling exhaustion. I think of her hand sliding between my legs and how that constant movement without slowing or stopping, no control over it, a constant at this moment. I feel my pulse in every inch of me. My insides feel like they're underwater, being whisked around by the current of arousal swarming through me. I twinge inside as a high pitched note attacks me from her playing. 

She begins one of my favorite four-minute romantic pieces. I don’t want that. I want her  to touch me. But she keeps going, playing it as slow as she can muster. I just want it to end, I want her to touch me. When it finishes she starts another five-minute piece and my insides turn to mush. No, not six more minutes. I shiver and force myself to be still for fear that movement will result in more delay. My feet pinched under my ass hurt slightly, my hands are getting sweaty folded tightly in my lap. I’m not focusing on those though. I’m focusing on Sarah. 

Sarah’s grainy brown hair all slung over one shoulder. Her freckle covered face, thin lips  held tight with barely any color to them. Her flat chest. Her long arms and legs. I remember her telling me how much she hated every part of her body. I will never understand that. Her body is a temple that I want to worship. I want to bury my hands in her hair and kiss every single freckle on her face. I want to stroke my hands across every single limb of hers and rest my head against her gorgeous chest. I want to suck on her nipples that I can see poking through her grey shirt slightly. She’s not wearing a bra, that’ll be good later. The piece finale ends. When she begins a piece that’s part of the performance that is thirteen minutes long I break with my need. Whimpering out, “Please, come play me instead.” She stands at my comment and puts her instrument away. 

“If you want to be an instrument then I’m going to make you sing for me.” She bends down and slides an arm around my neck and under my knees as I start to stand. She hoists me into her arms and I melt. She’s so soft and cozy. I bury my head in the crook of her arm and breathe heavily. When she starts kissing the top of my head I want to fall to pieces in her arms. I hold myself together. I try to focus on what I am after. But it’s hard to concentrate when she lays me on the bed, straddles me, and eclipses my mouth with hers. 

I moan into her mouth. She rocks against me rhythmically, her lips cradling mine. I try to  keep up with her mouth kissing back softly but she pulls me into a needy frenzy with soft kisses. I moan as she starts opening and closing my lips. Rocking into me, licking across my lips, sucking gently. Her tongue slides into my mouth and lays over mine. It’s weight pins my whole body down. She slides it in and spirals it around my mouth. Rolling against mine, wrestling it, reaching deeper and deeper into my mouth. I swear it touches my throat and I grunt. She presses her lips into mine harder. Grinding our mouths as a few bits of wetness rolls down my chin. I moan and writhe against her. She nips my lips gently and licks around them. She shuts my mouth with a suck and leans back. I can feel my lips are slightly swollen, they aren’t my only lips that are. 

She leans down, hair making a mess in our faces. Her voice becomes a deep sultry  hiss in my ear. Her hot breath cascading down my neck. “I’m going to slide my tongue around you like a snake.” She licks my ear and tugs on the lobe with her teeth. I can feel myself lose all sense of time and surroundings as her lips start attacking my neck. She covers both sides in heavy wet kisses. I don’t care about anything but her at this moment I just feel hungry and needy, I want more. 

She sucks on my collar bones her tongue making a figure eight around them. She slips  off me and stands at the side of the bed. I whimper and feel like crying as the air touches me everywhere she was covering me, protecting me. She takes off her top and I smile knowing she’s getting as excited as I am when I see how hard her nipples are. She takes off her pants and panties together. I stare at the small dark bit of hair just below her bellybutton. She steps forward and leans me up against the pillows. I don’t even focus or move. She slides my top off and hugs me. When she leans back from the hug my bra falls off and she’s tugging my pants down. She throws them across the room and cups my center in her hand. I just want her to touch there more and more. I press down with my hips getting little bits of pleasure from these touches. 

Need welling up inside me. She wraps one leg over mine and slides her other arm around my back. I lean up and lick her neck. I don’t use the tip of my tongue nor do I give her any sweet kisses. I just lick her heavily. Tasting her. I moan and suck on her neck. I lean down and kiss across her chest. Fuck. She starts massaging me up and down. Her fingers pressing across my lips through the panties that are damp and stuck to me. I suck on her nipples as she starts rubbing firm circles around my clit. It’s throbbing as she rubs it around. I want to scream for her to rub quicker and harder but my voice is cut off with a moan as she speeds up. That constant pressure she has. Her hand making fast concise swirls over my clit. She leans down and licks long spirals around both my breasts. She envelopes my nipples in her mouth and sucks them till they are hard as diamonds.  She flicks them and tugs them with her teeth. I want to kiss her. I want to say I love you.  But I look up into her eyes and I shatter. 

Moaning and grunting. I twitch as my clit throbs against her never-ending touch. My body’s prickly all over as I twitch and jerk against her. 

“S, S, Saraaaawww, oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.” I roll my eyes shut and bury my head in her chest. Her hand slows just as I start to spasm and shout as the feelings overwhelm me. She gently cups and massages me through aftershocks. Her fingers tracing the outline of my pussy. I can’t help it but start to cry against her. I try to hold it in my throat but she pats my clit and a moan rushes out with heavy sobs. Chills wrack my body as I curl up against her. Sarah wraps her arms around me. She puts a hand on the back of my head and softly runs her fingers through my hair as I cover her breasts in tears. 

“I, I needed that so, and I just can’t help, oh.”

“Sshhh Em. Hush. It’s ok, let it all out. I’m gonna hold you till you can’t cry anymore. Then I’m going to bury my head between your legs and not come out till I’m covered in your cum and my tongue is too weak to speak.” I smile and giggle and cry as she holds me. Every place our bodies are touching hips, chests, arms, I can feel the warmth radiating from them. A dark heat, a blackness swirls through my body. I tilt my head up and look into her glassy eyes. Those pitch dark pearly black eyes with light touches of brown around her pupils. Her heavenly beads touch my eyes with such affectionate protection I lean in rolling my eyes shut and sleep.


End file.
